


wet dreams are made of this

by bistiles (alis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, M/M, Possessive Stiles Stilinski, Rimming, Top Stiles Stilinski, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 18:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5059576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/pseuds/bistiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I want you to fuck me,” Derek moans, and Stiles feels his cock jump at the the words, “You– you were about to,”</p><p>That catches Stiles attention, stops kneading Derek’s firm ass, and tilt his head to the side, curious.</p><p>“I was about to?”</p><p>Derek nods, writhing on the bed, like he can’t stay still. Stiles caresses the back of his thighs, knowing that Derek must still be hard and desperate to come.</p><p>“I was dreaming of… Of you.”</p><p>--</p><p>Stiles and Derek are together for years, and one night, Stiles is woken up from his sleep by some surprising, yet pleasurable sight. He can't help but join in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wet dreams are made of this

Even after ten years, Stiles is still a light sleeper. It isn't something he can change, really. Even if his hyper-vigilance improved, he still wakes up at the smallest sound. Stiles has years training himself to wake up at any disturbance; a heavy sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford, not if he wanted to keep himself alive. Now, he just can't really stop himself from jolting awake when there's some unusual noise around him.

Which is why he's up at... 3:27AM, according to the bedside clock. He just went to sleep about two hours ago, after arriving home from the weekend away for work. He was so tired, and Derek was still fast asleep, so Stiles just slipped into bed and promptly passed out. Until, something woke him up. At 3:27AM. Almost giving him a heart attack.

Stiles groans, tamping down his racing heart. There's no danger, he knows he's safe. Beacon Hills has been mostly inactive on supernatural power ever since the pack stabilized itself and the Nemeton was fully drained of its power once and for all. Not only that, but Stiles knows that Derek would be wide awake, fangs out if there were anything trying to kill them. Derek's sense of danger is even more sharp-edged than Stiles’. And Derek is still sleeping.

But not quite. Stiles turns his head, staring in the darkness, as he tries to adjust his eyes. It takes him a moment to notice what woke him, but when he does, he blinks owlish at the scene in front of him.

Derek is panting, mouth parted, and eyebrows drawn together – or what Stiles can see of it, since half is hidden against his pillow. For a moment, Stiles worries, because Derek is making these tiny noises, and thinks of shaking him awake. Derek suffered from nightmares before, and though they weren't as severe as Stiles', they had lessened over the years. Stiles sits up, reaching one hand to touch Derek in the dark, but then he realizes that Derek is having a dream, but it sure as hell it isn't a nightmare.

[[MORE]]

Stiles watches in amazement, as Derek makes another noise — a moan —, and sighs in his sleep, mouth moving into incomprehensible words. His hips are moving in slow circles, humping the mattress in a lazy rhythm as he clutches his pillow tighter and moans higher.

It sure is a sight to see Derek like this, defenseless in his sleep, shirtless back exposed to the dim light coming from the night light in the corridor. His muscles ripple as he moves, and Stiles has to stop himself from reaching out and touching them, because he knows the moment he does, Derek will wake up, and Stiles isn't sure he wants to stop his dream. That, and damn, Derek looks delectable like this.

Stiles scoots sideways in bed, trying to position himself so he has the optimal view of Derek's body. He moves slow and carefully, knowing that any sudden movement might rouse Derek. He reclines back a little, making room so he can sneak a hand inside his own pants, and watches as Derek’s moans rise in volume and tempo, and as his hips hump the mattress more and more fiercely.

Damn. Stiles is kinda jealous of whatever Derek is dreaming about.

It isn't like Stiles is jealous, not really, he muses as he slowly strokes himself. He knows Derek loves him, and he knows Derek is always hard for him. Sex is good — damn, sex is _amazing_ between them — but Stiles can't help but feel a bit envious that Derek's having a good time, and it's not Stiles providing it.

Stiles strokes himself into hardness as Derek pants, face mashed against the pillow. He's babbling louder now, and Stiles can make out a moaned “yes”, or Derek’s breathy “harder”. Stiles wonders about what Derek is dreaming. Is he dreaming of fucking someone? Or is someone fucking him? Stiles feels a tiny stab of jealousy, but most of him is consumed by how hot it is to watch. Huh. Not exactly a new realization, Stiles thinks, stifling a moan himself. Maybe he should talk to Derek about this.

He stashed that thought for later, deciding he has a feast for the eyes right there, as Derek arches in his sleep, mouth falling open as a new stream of garbled words come out.

“Hmmm, Mieczysław,” Derek says, and Stiles stops masturbating in shock, “ah, yes... _Faster_.”

“What the fuck...” Stiles whispers, “You can't say my name while awake, but you pronounce it perfectly, while asleep? What?”

But then it hits him, and he stares because, oh. _Oh_. Derek is dreaming about _him_. Derek is having a damn wet dream about _Stiles_ after, what, ten years together. He can't help the surge of affection blooming in his chest — nor does he want to stop it.

He decides it's about damn time Derek has the real thing, though.

“Der. Der, hey. Wake up, you horn dog,” and Stiles snickers to himself, because ah. Dog jokes never get old.

Derek awakes with a start, as he always does when he rouses from a deep slumber, and looks around, eyes glowing blue.

“Stiles? What...” He says, blinking sleepily. He moves and gasps as his erection rubs against the sheets, “Oh, shit...”

Stiles chuckles, and rubs Derek's scalp, just because he can and because Derek looks adorable this sleepy.

“You were having a rather eventful dream,” Stiles jokes, and Derek grumbles in response, still doing tiny abortive thrusts against the mattress, “I was feeling left out, so I woke you up, hm?”

Derek nods, and Stiles pushes his shoulder, attempting to roll him onto his back, but Derek shakes his head and pulls Stiles down on the bed with him instead.

“No, don't— I remember what I was dreaming about,” Derek mumbles, still tugging Stiles. He lies on his belly again. Stiles gets the hint, and sprawls on top of Derek.

“Yeah?” Stiles kisses the back of Derek’s neck before sliding a bit lower.

Stiles isn’t completely sure he wants to hear what Derek was doing in his dream – or with whom - but he isn’t about to stop Derek from talking. Derek isn’t always completely forthcoming about his feelings regarding sex; it got better over the years, and after a substantial number of talks and fights, but Stiles learned to let Derek talk when he feels like sharing.

And Stiles is interested anyway.

“Yeah. I was– I was being rimmed,” Derek says, voice soft. Stiles kisses the triskele tattoo, before licking it, watching in amusement as Derek sighs in pleasure.

“Hm, are you asking me to rim you? Because it would be my pleasure,” Stiles comments, leaving out the part where he _wants_ to rim Derek until he’s a sobbing mess on their bed. Doing it better than his dream-Stiles was. He gives Derek a preview by licking and sucking a hickey on the base of Derek’s spine.

“N-no, hng. No,” Derek moans, hips pushing up. Stiles smiles against Derek’s skin, over his wantonness. He loves this, loves to see Derek so obviously aroused and wanting.

“No?” Stiles asks, spreading Derek’s cheeks apart, exposing him. He doesn’t do anything else, even if his mouth is watering to rim Derek.

“I want you to fuck me,” Derek moans, and Stiles feels his cock jump at the the words, “You– you were about to,”

That catches Stiles attention, stops kneading Derek’s firm ass, and tilt his head to the side, curious.

“I was about to?”

Derek nods, writhing on the bed, like he can’t stay still. Stiles caresses the back of his thighs, knowing that Derek must still be hard and desperate to come.

“I was dreaming of… Of you.”

Stiles sucks in a breath, before smiling, even if – maybe especially because Derek can’t see. He nuzzles Derek’s back, heart full of affection. Derek groans, trying to turn, but Stiles pins him in place with one hand. They both know Derek could break free if he wanted, but he stills and lets himself be held in place.

“You were having a wet dream about me,” Stiles says, and he doesn't know if he should feel this full of himself, or this amazed at Derek's boldness, but Stiles does. He doesn’t expect an answer from Derek, though. Instead, he leans over Derek to grab lube and a condom from the bedside table.

“Who else could it be?” Derek says, and there’s such fondness in his voice, that Stiles feels himself flooded with tenderness for his husband.

He drops everything on the bed, before bending over Derek, who turns immediately, like he’s in sync with what Stiles has in mind, meeting his lips halfway. The angle is awkward, and Stiles can’t really deepen it, but it doesn’t matter, not when Derek is licking into his mouth, panting and humping the mattress again.

They part, and Stiles nests between Derek’s legs, “You want it like this? On your belly?”

Derek nods and starts to raise himself on his knees, giving Stiles a privileged vision of his ass. Not that Stiles isn't intimately acquainted with this view; it’s impossible not to be after they’ve been doing this for a decade. It still sends a thrill of want through Stiles. He doesn’t stop himself from holding Derek’s hips in place and putting his mouth on the tight skin between Derek’s balls and his asshole.

Derek groans in response, pushing back, and Stiles chuckles before licking a stripe from the base of Derek’s cock to where Derek wants it most. He kisses Derek’s asshole, licks it with the flat of his tongue, before trying to push his tongue inside. The muscles are still tight, but Stiles keeps licking and pushing, and Derek is relaxed and willing.

“I told you I didn’t… Hng, I want to be fucked,” Derek complains, as he pushes his ass into Stiles’s face, begging for more. Stiles would have laughed, if he wasn’t hopelessly turned on by the gesture.

“Hey! You like my mouth!” And to prove his point, Stiles sucks it, making Derek shudder head to toe, “I bet I am better than my dream self anyway.”

Derek barks a laugh, and breathless, and looks over his shoulder.

“Are you competing with yourself?”

“I can’t help it.” Stiles winks at him and pauses to pick up the lube. He could draw this out, make Derek a sobbing mess with his mouth alone, but they are both hard and it’s late. He wants to cum inside Derek, with Derek anyway. He squirts a generous amount and warms it up.

“No one should make you moan like that,” Stiles complains, pouting, “Not even fantasy-me. I am taking that privilege for real-me only.”

“Oh yeah,” Derek taunts back, “Possessive much?”

“Says the growling wolf in this relationship,” Stiles jokes, adding another finger into Derek who arches and moans into it, and starts to stroke himself.

“Oy, don’t!” Stiles bats his hand away and chides him with a displeased noise.

Derek tries to say something back, but Stiles is milking his prostate with all he’s got, and Derek's words are lost in a mess of pants and moans as he thoroughly enjoys Stiles' fingering his ass.

“You’re more of a wolf...Than I am at times,” Derek manages to say eventually, and Stiles hums in response, not really caring to answer. It isn’t the first time Stiles has listened this from Derek, or from other people, anyway.

In any case, Stiles is too busy putting his mouth back on Derek, sucking the rim of his asshole. He pushes another digit, and then another, until Derek is full and stretched taut over his fingers, pressuring them together with his tightness. Stiles keeps thrusting and making Derek whimper brokenly and reach for his cock again. Stiles clicks his tongue, bites Derek’s left asscheek in retaliation.

“Can you control yourself, please? I am doing something here.”

“Yes, something that’s taking _forever_ ,” Derek bitches, and Stiles smirks, “So if you can fucking get inside me before next week, that would be– Ow! Stiles!”

Stiles laughs, and rubs his hand over Derek’s ass, right where he slapped him. Derek looks back, glaring at him with his impressive eyebrows, but Stiles isn’t fooled. He knows Derek, and he knows the way Derek’s breathing gets harder, grows more ragged. So Stiles slaps again, for good measure, relishing on the smack sound and the sting in his hand. Derek moans this time, not even pretending he isn’t into that.

“I half feel like giving you a good spanking...” Stiles says, with no intention to do such a thing. He could, and he has done it, but he’s too keyed up to last anyway.

Derek shakes his head no, voice breathless and raspy, as Stiles still fingers him, pushing in and out, twisting his wrist to get it just right. “Stiles, please... Please... I just want you to fuck me... Please.”

That undoes any of Stiles’ resolve to tease Derek. He can’t really deny Derek when he’s like this, ass up in the air, and begging prettily to be fucked. Stiles doesn’t have the heart to deny him any longer, not when he wants to be inside Derek as badly as Derek wants to be fucked.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Stiles says cheekily, winning another glare from him. He blows him a kiss, and Derek shakes his head in amusement.

Stiles tears open the condom wrapper and rolls it on himself in a practiced movement as Derek waits impatiently, moving and fidgeting. Stiles takes pity and wets himself with lube.

Derek sighs as Stiles pushes in, muscles relaxing, before tensing up again. He pushes back, trying to coax Stiles inside him faster, but Stiles holds his hips, keeps his pace slow. He doesn’t want to come too soon, and he will if Derek has his way with him. Stiles bottoms out with a moan, and they both wait for a moment, catching their breaths.

“I hope you know I am not going to last,” Stiles jokes, the tightness in his voice revealing the truth.

“Neither will I. Just fuck me into the mattress, Stiles. C’mon,” Derek leans on his elbows, and spread his knees some more, getting a better base, “Fuck me hard, _Mietek_.”

Stiles falters, endeared that Derek is calling his the diminutive of the monstrosity he has for a name. It isn’t something Derek says in public; Stiles would murder him, but in private it’s their thing.

“Awn, Der, that’s cu–”

“Keep going, Stiles! Focus,” Derek growls, and Stiles complies, because really, it’s for the best of both their interests.

Stiles groans loudly, pulls out, and then slams inside again, _hard_. He does it again, and again, and it gets Derek moaning at every thrust.

“Jesus Christ, what did that dream do to you?” Stiles grunts, as Derek starts matching him thrust for thrust, setting an unrelenting pace. Stiles is going to last even less than he thought.

“What you did to me, you mean,” Derek cries, grinding back, and Stiles’ eyes roll inside his skull. Jesus. “I can’t even sleep with you– Ah! You fucking me even in my, hng – _Oh God!_ – in my sleep. Harder, c’mon.”

“You’re going to fucking kill me, Derek,” Stiles swears but holds Derek’s hips tightly enough there’ll be bruises that won’t last. He positions himself better, gets enough leverage to ram into Derek shallow and fast and _hard_.

Derek doesn’t answer, just moans continuously, and Stiles assumes it won’t be long before Derek comes. He isn’t even touching himself, and Stiles knows by the way he’s panting that he’s close, that he’s hard and dripping all over the bed. Stiles fucks into him, enjoying the view of Derek’s back, how his muscles bunch when he thrusts against his prostate, and soaking in every moan and sigh and cry that Derek makes. One would think that after such a long, stable relationship, sex would stop being so interesting, but no. Derek still makes Stiles hot like no one else ever was, or even will. There’s nothing that will ever compare to Derek being this undone and carefree, sweat glistening against his tanned skin, hands gripping the bed sheets so tightly they are about to rip.

“Der. Der, I’m going to cum. C’mon, jerk off,” Stiles orders, gritting his teeth as Derek tightens around his cock, and oh God. He is going to come, “Fuck, fuck, c’mon.”

“What, together?” Derek jokes, as he takes himself into hand and tugs hard and fast, “How… – _Shit Stiles, fuck_! So close! – How fucking romantic.”

Stiles adjusts his position, enough so he can lean over Derek, and instead of answering, bites the juncture of Derek’s neck and shoulder. That’s all that he needs to do, and Derek is trembling under him, keening as he comes.

Stiles can’t help but follow him, emptying himself inside the condom, tired and satisfied he managed to time their orgasms. _Awesome_.

They both collapse onto the bed, Derek grumbling about a wet spot, that Stiles can’t really be bothered about, not when he’s still shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm. They both stay like that, Stiles still inside, and Derek lying under him, until Derek starts trying to roll away.

“Wait, wait, condom,” Stiles says, and pulls out, wrapping the condom on a tissue, and discarding it into the bin right by their bed.

“I’ve got come on my skin,” Derek complains, sounding every bit as sulky as he looks.

“You big baby,” Stiles laughs, poking and pushing Derek, until he rolls on his back, and Stiles can happily lavish the come away with his tongue. Derek sighs, carding his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he licks him clean.

“Hmm, you almost make me want to be hard again,” Derek comments, and Stiles raises his head from where he was licking Derek’s lower abdomen. He knows better than to go and try lapping his dick now; he’s still too sensitive, Stiles knows.

“Almost? I am offended,” Stiles says, crawling up and flopping over Derek, starfishing over him. Derek just grumbles, and accepts it, holding Stiles.

“Almost. Now, I want to sleep.”

“Used, Derek! I feel used.”

“No you don’t,” he snorts, and Stiles laughs because Derek’s right. They quiet down, as their heart rates slow into normality, “I missed you,” he whispers, already sounding half asleep.

Stiles nuzzles into his neck, before pulling the sheets up with his foot, and covering them both.

“I missed you too, big guy,” Stiles answers, as Derek’s breath evens out, “Dream of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Original Prompt being**   
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> Done for superlittlekitten @ tumblr!
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> Thanks to detectivesterek, ao3-tigerion, captaintinymite & apinkducky (@tumblr) for the help!


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